


A Life Freely Given

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Gore, Dark Magic, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Homosexuality, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Moonshadow Elves (The Dragon Prince), Oaths & Vows, Prisoners, Revenge, Season/Series 01, Self-Sacrifice, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Soren swore an oath to protect the King but he knew an unwinnable scenario when he saw one. If he could convince the elves to spare Ezran’s life, nothing else mattered.Basically: what if Soren had found the MS elves?
Relationships: Marcos/Soren (The Dragon Prince), Rayla & Soren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75





	1. The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t seen any Soren kidnapped fics [except 1], have I just missed them? I wrote this before the assassin elves had been named. They were announced before I was ready to post so I was able to change them but I haven’t read the fanfic they were named in, nor any extra material the creators may put them in, so their personalities won’t be cannon.
> 
> TW: the violence and description of injuries/deaths are only briefly mentioned but they are a little more intense than cannon-typical. Minor characters are killed when fighting each other but there is only one or two passing descriptions of violent deaths. Do let me know if you think any tags are missing.  
> Unbeta'd so let me know if you spot anything and constructive critcism is welcome.   
> This is my first Dragon prince fic, so I hope you enjoy it  
> :D

Rayla held her breath. The thunder of hooves drew nearer and although she didn’t doubt Runaan’s casting ability, she was seized by the panic that they would be spotted. Guilt crashed against her rib cage but she swallowed it down. Nothing to be done about her weakness now. Runaan was tense but perfectly still beside her and it gave her courage. She gripped the bottom of her swords, ready to unsheathe them.

The humans came into view: they wore heavy and gleaming armour with black and white coloured clothes. Each carried a broadsword and she also spotted one with a crossbow. Most of their faces were hard to see under helmets but she caught glimpses of their five-fingered hands.

One human dismounted and walked into the clearing. It was Rayla’s second look at a human up close and she watched transfixed. He wasn’t wearing a helmet and his walk was confident and relaxed, almost swaggering, she’d say; as if he had no idea how close to his enemy he was. He looked young, from what Rayla could tell; his blonde hair light and sleek looking, skin clear and smooth.

The moon moth fluttered over to him and landing on his outstretched finger.

He snorted. “Surprising no one, a magic moth is just as worthless as a regular moth.”

The moth flapped its wings a few times before taking off again, landing on Rayla’s head. Her grip on her swords tightened but she didn’t move. They were concealed. The humans couldn’t see her.

The human leader waved a hand at a soldier near the horses. “Hey, can I get the box over here?”

The soldier rolled his eyes when the leader wasn’t looking, but went over to a saddle bag. The leader returned his gaze to the hidden elves, eyes not resting on any of them but he was wearing a thoughtful expression.

At Rayla’s side, Runaan slowly drew out an arrow from his quiver. Rayla’s heart started jack-rabbiting in her chest. 

Then the human’s head snapped around and he stared directly at Rayla. She felt light-headed. Had he seen her?

“Sir?” Another human enquired, stepping forward.

The leader flung out a palm toward him and all the humans froze. It was as if all the air had disappeared, as if the world had stopped and they were all dangling above a precipice.

Without warning the human leader drew his sword and just managed to deflect Runaan’s arrow. The clearing erupted into battle cries as both sides drew their weapons and Runaan’s illusion fell away.

Rayla tore out her swords and stepped to the side to let Callisto launch himself at the leader, brandishing his staff. As the humans ran at them, she sprang forward and began engaging. They were slower than she was used to but their armour was thick and her direct blows seemed to do little. She danced around and tried to land kicks their heads, elbows and backs of their knees, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to stomach slashing at those weak points.

Andromeda leapt onto the back of a human to Rayla’s left and snapped his neck. Rayla gritted her teeth and tried to push the terrible sound out of her head as she finally managed to knock out the one she’d been fighting. Panting, she caught a glimpse of Callisto still trading blows with the human leader and further away, Ram throwing their daggers from a tree branch. Runaan was fending off two humans at once but Andromeda raced over to help.

The human leader suddenly appeared at Rayla’s left side. Fighting panic, she blocked his blow and pushed down a wince at how her bones shook from the force. She’d thought that humans were weaker than elves, even the ones she’d just fought hadn’t packed as much of a punch. Focusing on the fight, she ducked and weaved, assessing him for weaknesses. Whilst he wasn’t as fast as her, he kept up with ease and almost immediately began to focus on her left side, which was her weaker fighting hand.

A cry from behind her triggered an instinctual response and she ducked. The human’s eyes widened and he just managed to roll out of the way as Skor flew over Rayla. She hung back as Skor took over, his bigger build a better match for the human’s strength.

Rayla looked around and saw the back of a human disappearing into the forest. Lowering her head, she gave chase and managed to trip it with her sword in hook form. The human rolled over onto its back. It was the same one as before! Déjà vu clawed at her but this time she didn’t hesitate, bashing him on the temple. The human crumpled and his eyes slid shut. Rayla panted and sheathed her swords, dragging him back to the clearing by the collar. She told herself that Runaan could be convinced to take him prisoner.

As she entered the clearing, she saw the battle was more or less over: Skor was checking Ram’s side where an arrow protruded; Runaan was knelt over a human, dealing the killing blow, and Callisto was lying face down. After securing the human with rope, Rayla limped over but noticed the slash of red soaking the grass under Callisto’s body. She stopped walking; averting her eyes she only saw more bodies. Her stomach roiled.

In the centre of the clearing, Andromeda disarmed the last human standing, the leader, with a vicious swipe of her blade. The human cried out as his sword flew away and disappeared into the undergrowth. Andromeda lunged, almost stabbing the human who barely dodged out of the way. He was favouring his left leg and there was blood dripping down his other arm, which was hanging limply against his side. Rayla couldn’t see where the injuries were, but he was breathing heavily and obviously having trouble focusing on Andromeda. He wouldn’t last long.

Rayla put away her swords and turned to help Runaan up. He glared at her and ignored her hand. Assessing the state of his team, Runaan’s expression hardened even more.

Andromeda had knocked the human to its hands and knees, sword held high to plunge into its back. 

“Wait!” Runaan ordered. Andromeda stayed her hand; eyes fierce even as she froze. Runaan tossed over some rope, which Andromeda caught with one hand.

She glared at Runaan. “This filthy creature killed Callisto!”

Runaan gazed back steadily. “I know.”

Reluctantly, Andromeda bound the human’s hands behind its back.

“We’ve lost the element of surprise,” Runaan declared as he stalked over, “and one of our number,” Andromeda tugged the rope sharply, making the human wince, “but we can recover some advantage. Inside knowledge.”

The human snarled. Runaan drew his dagger and crouched down next to the squirming bundle. Rayla hauled her captive over, a feeling of wrongness growing in her stomach. She caught sight of the human’s face: there was a lot of blood, splattered over his features as if…Oh, Callisto.

Runaan’s voice interrupted her horrified realisation. “Will they send reinforcements if you do not return?”

The human spat in Runaan’s face, the glob tinged pink from its split lip. Runaan grunted and wiped it off. With lightning speed, he struck the human in the abdomen with the hilt of the dagger. The human gasped and coughed. _Good_ , Rayla thought viciously.

“Where will they keep the King and Prince?”

“Ez?” The human’s voice was thin and rasping, a stark contrast to the swaggering confidence before the fight. He looked up at Runaan. “You’re going to kill Ez too?” His lip curled back as energy flowed back through his voice. “But he’s just a kid!”

Runaan was unmoved. “It is justice!”

“It’s stupid!”

Runaan grabbed the human’s chin. “Your opinion is irrelevant, filth. Where will they keep them?”

The human gritted its jaw, eyes darting between Runaan, Rayla and the human she’d captured. Then it blew out a long, slow breath from its nose and its gaze went distant. Rayla blinked; she recognised the look from the other’s faces when they’d gone through anti-interrogation training. Who knew humans had heard of the concept? She frowned. How often were Crownguard soldiers interrogated for the training to be necessary?

Runaan huffed and Rayla knew that he’d realised it too. Runaan met her gaze.

“Get a sack and a gag.”

Rayla jumped and awkwardly indicated to her own captive. He’d woken and was blinking sluggishly. Runaan’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t protest, instead stalking off to Ram and Skor.

“We’ve already got one.” Andromeda snapped at her. “Just slit its throat and be done with it.”

Rayla swallowed and the human leader shuffled on its knees to look at Andromeda. Rayla didn’t know enough about humans to read its expression, but to her it looked concerned. Noticing the human’s gaze, Andromeda pulled her head back a little, considering.

She looked back at Rayla. “Maybe it will be useful after all.”

…

They burned Callisto’s body, looted the human corpses for anything useful and slipped away. Usually Moon Shadow Elves were interned in their family plots, returning to the earth that gave birth to them, but the group couldn’t carry his body back, nor risk leaving any part of him to be used by the abominations the humans called spells.

Runaan lead the way to a new hiding spot, Skor supported Ram, Andromeda dragged and shoved the human captives along and Rayla was in charge of holding the moon moth in its box. Runaan hadn’t said another word to her, but she could tell he had figured out her deception. She didn’t want to know exactly what he’d say to her when he found time to say it.

She tried to ignore how Andromeda kicked the humans when they fell, which was frequently as they had bags over their heads. The leader was noticeably weaker than the other one, limping heavily, but he had killed Callisto and was probably responsible for countless other atrocities against her people. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. So whenever she felt it, she squared her jaw and remembered the terrible crimes humans had committed.

When they stopped in another clearing, Runaan looked over each of them; expression almost unreadable. Having known him for years though, Rayla knew what he was thinking: their task was almost impossible now. Down one, almost two people, or even three if you counted herself, and having lost the element of surprise, infiltrating the castle and taking out two targets…

Nonetheless, he announced. “We bound ourselves to this task. A task given to us by the Dragon Queen herself. We will see this through.”

Andromeda had the human captives on their knees and Runaan stalked over, expression set.

Runaan ripped the bag off the human leader’s head and Rayla winced. All those face plants onto the forest floor had given it some impressive and painful looking bruises.

“Now, I am going to ask you some questions and your friend is going to confirm your answers.”

He indicated; Skor debagged the second human, stuffing his ears with cotton buds and dragging him behind the leader so he couldn’t read lips.

Runaan leant on his knees, looking into the human leader’s eyes. “If there is any discrepancy, both of you will regret it. Understand?”

The human nodded once. Andromeda undid the human’s gag and the human stretched its jaw out.

Before Runaan could ask the first question though, the human said. “You’ll fail.”

Scowling, Runaan unsheathed his dagger as the human continued.

“If you storm the castle you could kill the king. If all of you took on the guards with the moon high, maybe you’d win. But could you kill both of them?”

Runaan snapped. “I’m asking the questions!”

“They’ll be in separate ends of the castle, both heavily guarded by soldiers and the Prince with magic too.”

Runaan hesitated.

The human finished. “He might not accept magical measures for himself, but the King won’t hesitate to authorise Dark Magic to protect his son.”

Runaan tilted his head. “Nice try, but earlier you admitted that no one knows our true intentions.”

“Yeah,” Andromeda pulled back the human’s head by his hair as she leant down over him, “and we have magic of our own.”

Breathing speeding up, the human tried. “They were already securing the princes before we left. It will still be impossible-”

Runaan snorted. “This is pointless. We won’t be dissuaded-”

“You want justice? Why not kill the son of the one who actually destroyed the egg?”

Silence fell on the clearing. Andromeda released the human and he swayed forward on his knees. Rayla exchanged a glance with Skor before his jaw jutted out and he looked away pointedly. Ram was staring at the human intensely, still clutching their side.

The human leader glanced around, licking his lips. “Kill the Arch Mage’s son. That would be better revenge, wouldn’t it? Kill us and leave.”

Runaan shook his head. “You humans killed the heir, we shall do the same.”

The human leader snapped, angry now. “Which is it? Revenge or killing the royal line? That won’t end the war!”

“We’re not here to end it!”

“Just to kill a ten-year-old child! How noble!”

Hissing, Runaan raised his fist but Ram spoke. “Wait.” They looked at the human. “You said kill ‘us’.”

Eager to be listened to, the human shuffled a little to better face Ram. “The King won’t like it, but he’ll accept it to protect his son.”

Ram knelt down stiffly, eyes soft as they said. “You are the mage’s son.”

Rayla’s stomach twisted. That feeling of wrongness welled up inside of her, stronger than before.

The human blinked. “I know.” Feeling Rayla’s gaze on him, he looked up at her. “Didn’t you?”

Rayla looked away, aware of other eyes turning towards her.

“A life freely given...” Ram told Runaan, spreading out their hands. Rayla bit her bottom lip, remembering what Ethari had told her.

In Ancient Moonshadow Elven culture, elven sacrifices had sometimes been exchanged for wrongs committed, especially in times of war or tension between the tribes. Those willing to lay down their lives in payment for their tribe’s transgression had been heralded as heroes, their names passed down generation after generation. It had been centuries since the last sacrifice – the various tribes having enjoyed peace, united against the human threat – but the idea was no less sacred.

Runaan folded his arms and glanced around at the other assassins. They were clearly thinking about it. Runaan caught sight of the other human and nodded to Skor, who took out the cotton from the human’s ears. Stalking over, Runaan asked. “Who is your leader’s father?”

The human blinked, nose scrunching a little. He glanced at his leader’s back and stammered. “Uh, it’s Lord Viren.”

Coming to a stop looming over the captive, Runaan asked. “And what is this Viren’s occupation?”

The human gulped, eyes darting back over to his Captain.

“Tell us.” Runaan brandished his dagger.

Head dropping, the human said. “He’s the Arch Mage.”

“And is it true that it was the Arch Mage who killed the dragon prince?”

The human gaped, breathing speeding up as sweat beaded down his forehead.

“Tell them the truth, Marcos.” The Captain called, grunting when Andromeda kicked him.

“Yes.” Marcos confirmed, wilting a little as Runaan stepped back.

Hope rose within Rayla. _The echoes of a life freely given last forever._

Runaan sheathed his dagger. “We’ll let the King decide. You,” he nodded to the human solider, “will go back and offer the King this deal. If he comes to us in the forest before the midnight hour, alone and without weapons, then only he and the Mage’s son will die tonight. We will return to Xadia and seek no more vengeance upon humans. If he refuses and hides in his castle, then we will come for him and the prince.” Runaan leaned down, voice deepening. “And even if we fail and die, others will come in our stead. We will not give up until his son dies by elven hands.”

Runaan nodded to Skor, who cut the human free. Staggering to his feet and rubbing his wrists, the human met Runaan’s eyes and nodded. But he hesitated. 

“Please, let me say goodbye.”

Runaan considered, before waving a hand. “Be quick about it.”

Stumbling forward, Marcos fell to his knees next to his Captain.

“Soren-”

“It’s fine, go.” The leader- Soren interrupted.

Marcos cupped Soren’s cheek, eyes filling with tears. Expression softening, Soren closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Rayla had to look away. She glanced at Runaan and saw him looking at her. She could tell he was thinking of Ethari and felt her own eyes burn.

“I won’t forget.” Marcos whispered.

Rayla heard the soft smack of lips and held onto one wrist, squeezing over the ribbon. Then Marcos got up and with one last look, turned and vanished into the forest.

There was a long silence. Then Runaan started ordering preparations for the confrontation, sharpening of blades, checking Ram’s wound and so on. He pulled Rayla aside.

“When we get back to Xadia, we are going to have a long talk. But for now, just watch the prisoner. He is your responsibility. If he escapes, you will not be coming home with us. Do you understand?”

Rayla swallowed and held her chin up. “Yes, Runaan.”

He stalked away, leaving Rayla to fiddle with one ribbon and stare down at the human. He looked as wrecked as she felt.

…

Marcos ran faster than he’d even run in his life. Unlike the overwhelming fear that had gripped him the previous night, he was consumed by a towering grief. He kept on seeing Soren’s furrowed brow and thin smile. Brave and strong, even in the face of death. Outside of sparring and, as Marco had more recently discovered, sex, naked emotion was rare from Soren.

In social situations, Soren had this swagger about him, a brash, joking, unthinking attitude which left little room for consideration of people’s feelings or etiquette. Some hadn’t learned to see through it, but most of the Crownguard was aware that it was mostly an act. One on one, Soren tended to be more genuine, more low-key, but never completely honest. Always holding something back.

In contrast, he was impossibly natural and composed in a fight; where others strained and panicked, Soren danced with joy and laughter, never misstepping, never faltering. Marcos had seen him lose exactly once, and that had been sheer luck, involving a wayward pig skin, a glow toad and bashful princes.

It had taken many weeks of stolen moments in closets and shadowed corridors before Marcos had learnt exactly how to take his Captain apart. What a rush it had been to finally wipe the smirk off that impossibly handsome face and instead see pure pleasure.

Marcos wasn’t under any illusion concerning what they were doing. Soren was his commanding officer, no matter how laidback a leader he was day to day, on missions or concerning official business, he was no pushover. He also took his role very seriously.

Many had been resentful when he’d first been promoted – seeing the appointment as nepotism – so Soren had quickly made it known that life would be a lot easier for everyone if they kept their opinions to themselves.

Over the course of a year, tensions had loosened and hardly anyone grumbled about it anymore, instead enjoying the more relaxed commander style. As long as you did your duty up to standard and didn’t talk back, Soren was lenient on minor transgressions. He ran gruelling training sessions and battle scenarios but he was also a good teacher, despite his often bizarre metaphors. Marcos had noticed a marked improvement in his own fighting since Soren had taken over and knew the others felt the same way. 

So although they’d been pawing at each other any chance they could get for a few months, Marcos knew that they didn’t and couldn’t have a relationship. It was just a way to blow off steam; they were both teenage boys stuck hanging around closed doors in armour for a lot of the time. Neither of them had given words to what they were doing, but the perfunctory way in which they re-adjusted their armour and deliberately spoke in hushed tones whenever they were together said it all.

Whilst he’d been a captive of the elves, Marcos had been terrified, sure he was breathing his last breaths.

He’d never seen Soren afraid before; nervous at being caught fooling around maybe, but never showing true fear. But then, on his knees, surrounded by bloodthirsty elves, Soren had been pale under the bruises and blood, lips trembling slightly. Marcos’ heart had collapsed in on itself, painful and sucking his breath away.

_It’s fine._

Soren had said; voice weak and hoarse. Unable to resist, Marcos had cupped Soren’s cheek, wishing he could do something, anything, to save Soren from the horror he was facing. Even just to be with him at the end. But he couldn’t. So he’d made a promise and given a kiss, pouring all his emotion into it. Soren had responded briefly, before pulling back, eyes shining.

That last image of Soren’s face haunted Marcos as he ran. The slightly averted gaze, the angry purpling over his cheekbone and jaw, the unshed tears…it made Marcos want to collapse into a ball and cry for days.

But he couldn’t. So he ran.

It was gone midday when he returned to the castle, panting and breaths away from heaving. The guards at the main gate jumped when they saw him and ran over. Bent over his knees, he managed to gasp out that he needed to speak to the King, immediately.

“What happened?”

Marcos’ throat closed up and he shook his head. Meeting the guard’s gaze, Naira, he thought her name was, something in his expression made her gasp. Marcos grit his teeth and stood up, wincing at the stich in his side. He needed to get to the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anti-interrogation training is not standard for Crownguard, but it is for Viren’s children. I believe he thinks that he loves them, but it’s more like ‘conditional fondness’. His children have a purpose, that Viren decided by the by, and him ensuring they fulfil their purpose is for Viren, a form of love.  
> Also the MS elves are more reasonable in this. I heard that in the book, they wanted Runaan to kill Rayla because of her ‘mistake’! Wth? Do not like them. I also invented the whole offered sacrifice thing, felt like they needed more encouragement to consider Soren’s suggestion.


	2. The Scales

King Harrow stood in the Great Hall as guards helped him into his battle armour. The atmosphere was tense and he was very aware of all the eyes watching him warily. Everyone was wondering if this would be the last time they saw him alive.

Harrow’s ears pricked, someone was running in the hallway. A few guards reached for their swords as the doors flung open.

“King Harrow!­” A guard called. The other guards relaxed their stances on recognising him but the intensity of their gaze didn’t lessen.

“It’s the elves. They…” 

Harrow realised that the soldier was one of the Crownguard Soren had taken to confront the elves. He took in the soldier’s muddy armour, the dried blood down the side of his face, the pained expression. It painted a very clear picture.

“Your Highness,” the soldier began again, “the elves didn’t just come here to…for you. They came for Prince Ezran too.”

Gasps fluttered around the room and the air left Harrow’s lungs. He’d considered it a possibility but to have it confirmed. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. His son couldn’t pay for Harrow’s mistakes.

Viren entered. “What’s going on? Where’s Soren?”

The soldier turned and stumbled a little as he half-bowed

“Arch Mage…your son, he...” He swallowed, looking between the King and Arch Mage. Turning to the King, his voice strengthened as he reported. “The elves have an ultimatum. They say if the King surrenders and comes to the clearing, they will not attempt to kill the prince. They’ll take Soren’s life instead. But if you don’t come, they’ll hunt prince Ezran. Even if they fail, more assassins will keep on coming until…”

Harrow’s whole body plunged into an unforgiving cold. His young son, hunted like game by countless, ruthless elves. He could _not_ let that happen. 

“Guards! Find my sons and bring them here immediately.” Two guards nodded and left.

“What are you thinking?” Viren asked him, as if he hadn’t just learned that his son was being held by elves that might murder him.

Harrow stared back at his old friend for a long moment before sighing heavily. “I cannot let my son pay for my mistakes.”

“Harrow, think about this! We can still figure something out!”

“I won’t risk setting off a horde of assassins after my son!”

“Think about it for more than two seconds: why would they equate the life of a Crownguard with a prince’s? It’s a trap! You can’t trust them!”

“Lord Viren.” The soldier who’d returned interjected. Harrow remembered belatedly that the lad’s name was Marcos. “They know he’s your son.”

Finally, Viren showed an emotion other than impatience: his face went pale and he stared. “How could they possibly know that?”

“I’m not sure.” Marcos answered. “They stuffed my ears with cotton when,” he swallowed, ­“they were going to interrogate Soren about the castle’s defences.” His expression pinched. “But when they got to me they only asked about who Soren’s father was. I think…I’m not sure, but I think Soren told them.”

“Why would he do that?” Viren snapped.

Harrow’s heart splintered even as dismay flooded through him. How could Viren not understand the sacrifice his son was making? Viren looked at Harrow, eyebrows drawn together angrily. After a beat, his expression cleared.

“Oh.” Viren said, shoulders slumping.

Guilt wormed into the cracks in Harrow’s heart. Was he really going to agree to sacrifice another man’s son in place of his own? His best friend’s son?

Ezran’s bright smile flashed in his mind’s eye. Yes. He was. Ashamed, he turned to instruct the guards to ready his horse.

“Harrow. Wait.” Viren stopped him. He looked to Marcos. “What are the chances you and the other Crownguard could rescue him?”

Marcos looked between the King and mage, then down at his hands. “I don’t think it would be possible. They’re too fast and they can hide if they want to. We were the only ones they didn’t kill. They were so fast and…” He trailed off, gaze going distant.

Harrow watched his old friend process that information. The usual sight of various scenarios running through that quick mind warmed Harrow’s heart a little, even as he knew it would be for the last time. 

Harrow laid a hand on Viren’s shoulder. “I need you to stay here and protect my sons.”

Viren swallowed. “Don’t ask me to let you go to your death.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no other way.”

“Give me some time-”

“Viren. My decision is final.”

Viren flinched at the harsh tone and bowed his head. “Very well.”

Harrow turned to his guards. “Ready my horse. I want to be able to leave as soon as I’ve seen my sons.”

…

Escape was impossible. He’d known that from the moment the leader had ordered him tied up.

When he and Marcos had been led away from the bodies of their fellow guards, Soren hadn’t even bothered trying to cut his bonds with the sliver-thin porcelain dagger hidden up his left vambrace*. He was sure that he’d pulled his ankle and even without that, he was exhausted. The cut just above his elbow had stopped bleeding but he’d lost enough blood to make his head light and swimmy. He’d collapse before he’d gone even a mile, let alone evade the elves.

No, as he’d stumbled and fallen again and again on the march to the place he would be tortured, Soren had considered other ways to help the King. The Elves had seemed pretty set on the ‘eye for an eye’ mantra so he wouldn’t have any luck there. Soren wasn’t his father; he couldn’t convince people to do things they didn’t want to do.

But maybe he could change their minds about going after Ez. He’d caught a glimpse of some of the elves reactions when he’d mentioned Ez before – they were uncomfortable with the idea of killing a kid. Maybe they could be brought around on that.

There was still their ‘oath’ thing though, so maybe instead of getting them to give up the idea, he could convince them to switch targets. After all, it had only been the King and his father who had…

Soren had drawn in a laboured breath and his steps had faltered. A cruel hand had shoved him and he’d just kept from falling, staggering forward a few paces. Once he’d righted himself, the knowledge of what he had to do had sunken in.

A cold ball of iron had sunken to the bottom of his gut and dug itself in. It was logical. He was dead already, no way the elves would let him live after they were done with him. There was no other way. This was to protect his friend and heir to the throne.

Still, the ball had crackled with electricity and he’d squeezed his eyes shut.

_Do I have to?_

He’d heard his father’s voice. _Yes._

Luckily the elf leader had bought it, though he’d added a twist. Soren wasn’t sure how the King would react to such an ultimatum. Would Viren or the council even let him leave on his own? Soren couldn’t know for sure what would happen. Just that he’d done all he could.

Soren was dragged to a tree and propped up against it, legs splayed out in front of him. His hands were retied in front of him and the cruel elf spat on him before she’s stalked away.

Then it was just him and his thoughts. Eyes slipping closed, he thought to how everyone would take the news. He regretted not instructing Marcos to tell only the King of the ultimatum, to make sure none of his family would know. Claudia’s face appeared in his mind’s eye; her lips trembling and wide.

_I’m sorry, Clauds._

…

Claudia turned away from the view and went back in doors. There wasn’t any telling how long it would take Soren and his team to complete their mission. She shouldn’t be worried. Her brother was an expert fighter and had some of the best Crownguard with him. They would all be fine. She bit her lip as she looked around her father’s office.

 _It would be better use of her time to focus on thinking of another solution._ That was her father’s voice in her head and he wasn’t wrong.

Shaking herself, she made to go over to the cabinet when something caught her eye. There, on the painting’s frame was a… handprint? Curious, she inspected it. Bright orange, faint smell she didn’t recognise, taste…urgh, persimmon! Oh no, had little princes gone where they shouldn’t have?

She went down to investigate and found the two princes marvelling at the egg.

“It’s the dragon prince! It’s alive!” Ezran called when he saw her, his face almost pressed against it.

“You shouldn’t touch it! It’s dangerous!” Claudia warned, drawing nearer.

“What? Why?” Callum asked, before immediately continuing. “Claudia, why is it here? Wasn’t it destroyed?”

“No, Dad took it to protect us.”

“What do you mean?” Ezran asked, his innocent face making Claudia’s throat close up for some reason.

She choked out. “It’s a weapon, Ezran. It could be used against us.”

His face scrunched up. “How?”

“It’s a powerful magic source.”

“But dragons and elves already have magic, why would they need to use an egg?” Callum asked, looking between Claudia and the egg.

That was a good question. One she hadn’t considered before. Oh, where was Dad when you needed him? He always explained things so clearly.

“Hey, maybe we can convince those elves to leave if we give them the egg!” Callum suddenly exclaimed, throwing his arms out.

“No! We can’t _give them the egg_!” Claudia protested but Ez’s face was lit up. At his feet, Bait croaked.

“This’ll solve everything! No one has to die!” Callum insisted, placing a hand on the egg. Ezran clapped his hands and then reached up to help Callum take the egg of the stand.

“Callum! Ezran! No!” Claudia tried to emulate her father’s ‘and-that’s-final-tone’. She’s not sure she got it right, seeing as the boys ignored her.

She outstretched her arms as they approached the stairs and they pulled up short.

“Claudia,” Callum said, “do you really not care if the assassins come?”

“That’s not fair, of course I do! But this isn’t the answer.”

“He wants to be with his mother.” Ezran insisted. “We have to make sure he gets back home.”

He stepped forward and Claudia couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Beyond physically stopping them – and keeping two princes down in the dungeon wasn’t exactly a long term solution – there wasn’t anything more Claudia could do. She followed them out, mind whirling. _Dad’ll be disappointed_ , she thought, her stomach swooping. _But he’ll know how to fix it_.

…

“Who’s Clauds?”

A voice startled him. Soren’s eyes snapped open and he saw the youngest elf staring at him. She was knelt beside him, loosely holding the leash connected to his bound hands in one hand. One four-fingered hand. Soren shuddered and opened his mouth to answer honestly before he remembered himself just in time.

“No one.”

The elf folded her arms and looked away. “Fine. I was about to give you something to drink but if you’re going to be like that.”

Soren shifted and winced at his various injuries made themselves known. His lips were chapped and his throat dry. But this was an elf…

“Humans don’t drink blood, thanks.”

The elf blinked. “Neither do we.” She shook the water skin she had. “This is water.”

Soren’s brow knitted and he was about to question why she was offering him anything to a dead man, but found himself too thirsty.

“Oh, okay.”

She rolled her eyes but still helped him drink. The water was heavenly and Soren guzzled as much as he could, uncaring of the drops that slipped out and down his chin.

“Thanks.”

Their fingers brushed but he was too distracted to react. The elf recorked the water skin but didn’t answer. An uneasy silence fell between them. Soren wasn’t sure what to make of the elf but he had more urgent things to stress over. He shifted and couldn’t help the gasp as the tip of the vambrace scraped against his scabbed-over wound. The elf noticed and dithered for a moment before coming to a decision.

“Let me help you.” She put down the rope and water skin, shuffling closer. Still wary but also in pain, Soren held still as she examined it. In the end, he had to tell her where the straps were and walk her through removing the vambrace. He hissed as she took it off but sagged with relief once it was gone.

“That’s better. Stupid armour. You’re meant to protect me, not hurt me!­”

The elf huffed a small laugh, placing the plate down carefully beside him and reaching for his sleeve.

“May I?”

Soren blinked, thinking, _now this is too weird._

“Why are you doing this?”

Her lips pursed together for a moment. Then she shrugged.

“Runaan told me to take care of you until…” She coughed and looked away. Suddenly, talking to this elf and not thinking about ‘until’ sounded like a great idea.

“Runaan. Is that Mr Sourface over there?”

The elf gave a startled laugh, quickly glancing around furtively.

“Don’t call him that if you want to live!” Her expression dropped and Soren’s gut clenched.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

She hesitated but then replied. “I’m Rayla.”

It was a nicer name than her leader’s, or maybe it was she was gentle and kind…for an elf. She was the only one who’d shown mercy. If anyone else had fought Marcos...

“And you’re Soren. Now will you let me look at your wound?”

He feigned a sigh. “I suppose.” He held still as she rolled up the sleeve to reveal the wound, nose wrinkling at the dried blood making the fabric tacky. Luckily the cut had been shallow, so although it ran up along his arm, it wasn’t life-threatening.

“I think I have a poultice that would help.”

Soren didn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “You got a poultice for a busted ankle too?”

The elf sat back, eyes downcast.

Soren swallowed. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, is it?”

The elf’s gaze dropped even further to her own lap. Good. At least someone felt bad about it.

Without looking up she said. “I’m sorry.”

Soren eyed her but didn’t respond. All of the heavy implications came crashing down on him and he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the tree. Claudia’s face came back to him – her eyes watering, voice breaking. _Sor-bear_.

He pried his eyes open again, time to try distraction again.

­“Is it really not true that you drink blood?”

“No!” She replied, hand to her chest.

“Huh.” He watched her running water over the cut, forcing himself still.

When she was done, he continued. “And the uh, biting thing?”

She frowned, pausing in coating her finger in the poultice, so he explained and her reaction was caught between amusement and offence.

“Who told you that?­”

“Some girl at camp.”

“Camp?”

“You know where you go in the summer with the other kids. To do sports and stuff…at a lake?”

“Okay, so like a holiday?”

He held back a wince as she applied the poultice. “Yeah, I guess, but like a special one. There’s a camp for everything: soldier camp, art camp, healing-herby thing camp.”

“You went to solider camp.” She said, focusing on her work.

“That’s right! How did you- oh, yeah.” He chuckled as he looked down at his armour. “Well, I almost went to poetry camp.”

“Oh yeah?” The elf finished up, putting the poultice away. She got out some cloth and began wrapping the cut.

“When I was really young, I was sick a lot. I could never sit upright long enough to write stories or anything but poems I could do.”

“You write any good ones?”

“Nah, they’re all terrible. At least Clauds thought so.”

“Maybe if you’d gone to poetry camp…” The elf suggested. She tied off the wrapping before sitting back, pulling her knee in and resting her hands on it.

Soren huffed a laughed. “Yeah maybe. Anyway, I stopped getting sick so much and got really good at fighting, like really good. A poet with a sword, you could say.”

Rayla nodded and her gaze went distant, mouth down turning. Ah. Soren had forgotten that they’d fought only a few hours ago. _Quick, say something else!_

“You’re good too. Did you always want to do assassin-stuff?”

She turned her gaze back to him. “Uh, well, I was always fast and good at climbing but…it wasn’t till my parents died that I thought about becoming an assassin.”

“I’m sorry.” Soren offered. She waved it away but Soren continued. “I lost my mom when I was young. She didn’t die, she just left.”

­"It sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Runaan and his husband raised me.”

Soren looked past her to Runaan who was doing something to his arrows. Something clicked in his head. “You’re doing this for him.”

Her brow creased. “How did you know?”

Soren felt his lips twitch upwards though he felt no joy. “I joined the Crownguard to make my father proud.”

Rayla watched him, eyes searching his. “He should be proud.” She said eventually.

Soren shrugged and then winced as it pulled at his bruised muscles. He avoided her gaze, not liking how perceptive she was.

“I don’t know how my parents would feel about me becoming an assassin.” Rayla admitted.

Soren answered without thinking. “Neither do I.”

She chuckled wetly. It was then that Soren noticed his wound felt better, less throbby.

“I think it’s working, thanks.­”

She looked surprised but pleased. Reaching for another topic, Soren asked something that had been turning over in his mind.

“Why didn’t you kill Marcos?”

She started, eyes roaming around restlessly. “Oh, uh, well I thought he’d be useful.”

Soren just raised an eyebrow. Rayla saw this and her expression did something complicated; she glanced over her shoulder. “I just…couldn’t do it.”

The slack, dead face of that one elf flashed in his mind’s eye. Soren had never killed anyone before. He’d been training for most of his life to do it, hadn’t even hesitated when the opportunity to slash the throat presented itself, but it still turned his stomach. He could remember the sound, the spray…

“You’re a better person than me.”

She bit her bottom lip and didn’t reply. What was he _doing_? Chatting with the enemy like they were long lost friends. Swallowing down bile, Soren looked at his feet. His whole body ached, his ankle bit at him whenever he moved more than an inch, his wrists burned against the tight rope and the water he’d drunk felt like lead inside him. And when the sun went down, he’d die.

It didn’t matter what the King decided, the elves would kill him either way. It wasn’t fair but he couldn’t exactly blame anyone but himself. He’d had to open his big mouth and offer the idea. He’d had to join the Crownguard to get his father’s attention, had to push to be elected leader, had to slave away reading about battle formations and defensive strategies, about different elf forces, old reports from the time skirmishes with elves was common. Had to suffer through whispers about favouritism and laughs behind his back. Had to watch his father brush off news of Soren’s achievements whilst reading yet another ancient tome; had to watch the spoiled princes play with each other and the King, laughing without a care in the world.

He’d been so desperate to be the best, to be useful, but what had happened? He’d messed up and gotten almost everyone killed. Why hadn’t he brought more guards? Why had he been so arrogant to believe he and his best fighters could be able to take the assassins?

Sure, he’d read that Moonshadow Elves moved in groups of six and were strongest at night, he’d studied descriptions of their weapons and fighting style, but that wasn’t the same as actually fighting them. He’d let his team down; he’d let the King down. His father would be so disappointed.

Eyes prickling, he closed them as his fists clenched of their own accord. What an idiot he’d been.

The elf made an awkward humming sound. Soren opened his eyes again and saw her rubbing the back of her neck.

­“It’s okay. You don’t have to sit with me.”

Rayla shook herself. “No, it’s no trouble.­”

“The sun is setting!” Runaan announced from behind her. “Everyone into position.”

Flashing him a slightly panicked look, Rayla reached out and squeezed his bare wrist.

­“I'm sorry.”

Soren’s throat closed up and he could only nod. She slipped away and the cruel elf marched over, hauling him.

“Show time.” She smiled, a wicked tilt to her lips. Forcing a neutral expression onto his face, Soren knew there was no more time for distractions or regrets. This was the end.

…

“Dad! Dad!” Ezran cried as he, Callum and Claudia burst into the Throne Room.

“There you are! You really gave the guards…” Harrow trailed off as he saw what Ezran was carrying.

“It’s the dragon egg!” Ezran announced in the astounded silence that followed. He walked over to Harrow and the King stared with wonder at the multi-coloured glow. It was truly a sight to behold.

“How?” Harrow asked, even as a thought burrowed up from his subconscious. 

Viren turned to Harrow. “I can explain.”

Shock fading, Harrow shook himself a little. “I can’t believe you would lie to me like this!” He hissed, not wanting to air out his grievances in full view of their children.

“Wait, where’s Soren?” Claudia asked, suddenly noticing Marcos’ dishevelled appearance and her brother’s conspicuous absence. The adults froze and her frown deepened. When no one replied, she asked. “Did he get hurt?”

“He’s with the elves.” Marcos said eventually, though he didn’t seem able to meet Claudia’s eyes.

“Did he know about the egg?” Ezran asked, eyes lighting up.

Harrow was about to correct him when the entirety of the implications of the egg still being alive dawned on him, lifting the weight off his chest. The egg for Soren’s life. Harrow would be the only one to die, the only one to pay for his mistakes.

“No, but when I take it to the elves, I’m sure they’ll be grateful and let him go.”

Viren spluttered.

“That thing would grow up to be the most powerful creature in the world! We cannot let it threaten us like that!” He looked to the King. “Please, Harrow. See reason.”

Looking at Ezran and feeling his whole being softening, Harrow said. “It is a child.” He turned his gaze to Viren, tone deepening. “I will not let you keep it like another trinket for your dark spells.”

“But-!”

“Enough!” He looked into his friend’s eyes. “Viren, it will save your son’s _life._ ”

Viren opened his mouth but Claudia interrupted.

“What do you mean?­” She asked. “Dad, what does he mean?”

Viren’s eyes darted to his daughter for a split second before he replied to Harrow as if no one had spoken. “He swore an oath to protect the royal family, the same as I did. He’s just fulfilling his purpose, as all your servants must.”

Claudia strode over to her father so she was right in front of him. “Dad!”

Viren sighed, taking her hands. “Claudia, remember what we talked about? Sometimes we must make sacrifices for the greater good of all humanity. The elves want revenge for the egg and to keep it safe, Soren has agreed-”

“He doesn’t know about the egg, Viren.” Harrow interrupted, unable to countenance the lie.

“They’re going to kill Soren?” Callum asked. Harrow almost didn’t recognise his son’s voice, hoarse and deep as it was. He could just imagine the nightmares both his boys would have. 

“No. They won’t.” Harrow declared. “Guards, show Lord Viren to the dungeons.­”

Viren protested as the guards approached him. “Harrow!”

“I am your King and you lied to me. I can’t trust you.”

Viren let go of Claudia’s hands and backed up a step.

“You’re making a mistake!” He cried, though he made no effort to free himself. Claudia looked back at Harrow, obviously distressed as she pulled on a strand of hair.

“No. I am correcting one.” Harrow replied.

Viren hung his head and didn’t fight as he was led away.

“What’s going on?” Claudia near-whispered.

Harrow indicated to a guard. “Get me something to carry the egg in.” The guard snapped off a salute and left.

Kneeling in front of Ezran, Harrow looked between all of the children.

“The elves don’t know the egg is still alive. I will take it to them and,” he tamped down on a sigh, “hopefully they will let Soren go.”

“And you?” Callum asked. His expression tightened as he read Harrow’s own face.

Unable to look at Ezran, Harrow suggested. “Maybe they’ll be persuaded to forgive me as well.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ezran visibly brightened, causing Harrow’s heart to twist even tighter. He finally looked at Ezran and managed a tight smile.

The guard returned and Ezran said goodbye to the egg as they packed it away in a satchel.

“Now you are to stay in your rooms together until Opeli says you can come out, alright?” He instructed.

Callum nodded and in turn, Harrow hugged both of his sons. “You be good now boys. Look after Claudia.”

“We will!” Ezran answered.

“Your Highness?” Claudia looked up at him, one hand clutching her arm. “Please bring my brother back.”

Harrow placed a hand on her shoulder. “I will do everything in my power to try.”

Her worried expression didn’t relax any, but she nodded weakly. Callum came up and took her free hand.

As Harrow looked over his shoulder to catch a final glimpse of his family. All three children were hugging each other tightly and it took all of his will power to turn around and face his Fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vambrace: the black and gold armour plate covering Soren’s lower arm  
> So at this point Viren is still on team Harrow and will do anything for his friend and humanity, including sacrificing his own son. He’s a pragmatist after all.  
> Yeah okay I ship Soren/Rayla [in theory]. Obviously in the show Rayllum makes most sense, but I can’t deny finding Soren and Rayla fighting hot and they both have father figures who are disappointed that they are ‘weak’ and make the ‘wrong’ decisions. There is a lot they could bond over and I hope to see them develop a friendship next season.  
> Don’t worry though, no pairings in this fic as it covers such a short period of time.


	3. The Forgiveness

The trek through the forest with the heavy egg in his satchel had been exhausting. It hadn’t just been the walk and the weight of the egg, but also the knowledge that he was walking towards his own death. Harrow’s mind had swirled with memories and visions of possible futures: hopeful, joyous and catastrophic by turns.

Everything he had done had lead him there; he couldn’t bring himself to regret all of it, but there was plenty he wished he could take back. He remembered Sarai, how she’d advocated for the Titan’s life, warned that Dark Magic had a bigger price. That it was a shortcut. She hadn’t known how right she was.

At least he would see her again soon. He mourned for the time lost with his sons, lamented that Ezran would be thrust into a heavy burden so soon. He would be in good hands though, Opeli and the other council members would guide him. Callum would be there too – his sons had each other.

As he reached the edge of the clearing, his mind flashed to poor Claudia, whose whole family might soon be lost to her. Straightening, he lifted his chin. He had to ensure her brother returned to her safely.

He stepped through the last few trees to see the elves and Soren. The elves were arranged in a semi-circle in the centre of the clearing, Soren knelt in front of them. The poor boy looked worse for wear: his hands were bound in front of him and he was gagged; his arm was wrapped with a field dressing and he’d taken a lot of damage to his face.

 _Man_ , Harrow corrected himself. Young though he may be, Soren had fought to protect Harrow and his family. Soren’s eyes widened when he saw Harrow but otherwise he didn’t react. The elves didn’t move much either, their expressions hardened maybe, but the grips on their weapons didn’t waver.

“I am King Harrow.” He declared. “I have come to pay for the death of Thunder, but before you harm Soren, there’s something you must know.”

The elf in the centre, what looked to be the leader, curled his lip. The elves tensed as Harrow knelt and placed the satchel down in front of him.

“If this is a trick…” The leader began.

“No. It is the truth.” Taking a deep breath, Harrow pulled out the egg and stood, holding out. He heard gasps and the elves demeanour changed.

“The egg! It’s alive!” One of them cried, lowering her dual swords.

“I cannot tell you how deeply sorry we are that it was taken. Know that the one who stole it will be punished severely.”

Harrow glanced at Soren and saw that he understood the implication of that statement. Realising his King was watching him, Soren inclined his head slightly, though he seemed troubled.

“The mage.” Another elf snarled. She grabbed Soren by the hair, her curved blade dangerously close to his throat. “Runaan, it is time.­”

Heart pounding, Harrow called. “The egg is unharmed. I swear by my ancestor’s souls. Please, let Soren go.”

The leader, Runaan, considered the egg, the blood thirsty elf and then Soren, whose face was pulled into a grimace by the elf’s grip.

He turned back to Harrow. “Justice will not be denied. Give us the egg.”

“I understand that, but I want your word that you will spare my Crownguard.”

“He has already offered his life freely. The deal has already been struck.”

“Both done without knowing about the egg.” Harrow argued. “Surely its safe return is enough for his life!”

“It was stolen from its mother. There must be payment!”

“He’s not the one who took it! I am the one who killed Thunder. Let the only death here be mine.”

“You are in no position to bargain.” Runaan retorted, unmoved. Frustration bubbled up in Harrow, but before it snapped, he caught sight of Soren’s hands. He was signing something. Harrow squinted and just made out the letters ‘O’ and ‘K’.

Soren repeated: _I’m OK._

Heart clenching, Harrow tried again. “Please, his sister will be left alone in this world. We stole the egg and you held Soren captive. Let us exchange them so they may return to their families.”

“Not a chance.” The elf with her blade to Soren’s throat answered, eyes hard.

“Andromeda.” Runaan warned and Andromeda’s stance relaxed slightly though her expression did not.

“It is fair.” Another elf piped up. She looked young and kept glancing wondrously at the egg. “How can we take a life in payment for one that never died?”

“Quiet.” Runaan snapped, though when he returned his gaze to Harrow, he looked thoughtful. Harrow’s heart hammered in his chest.

Suddenly, the elf with the throwing knives swivelled to the east, arm pulled back in preparation to throw.

“Someone’s-” He never got to finish as a light shone from the trees, followed by a huge gust of wind.

Soren and the elves were bowled over and Harrow had to crouch to avoid losing his balance. Hastily, he placed the egg back in the satchel as a figure appeared.

Viren.

…

Ezran hugged Bait to his chest and watched Callum and Claudia out of the corner of his eyes. They weren’t talking, but they were still holding hands. All three of them were in Callum’s room, ostensibly packing just in case they had to make a hasty retreat to the Banther lodge. Ezran had packed one or two things – mostly jelly tarts – but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. All he could think about was his dad and Soren, the elves and the egg. He’d felt the baby inside, the life nestled behind the shell. It had been crying out for its mother; not knowing where it was, just that it wasn’t with her.

Ezran’s heart had felt funny and he’d told the egg that he understood. He’d lost his mother when he’d been a baby too. So he hoped the elves could take it back to her but he also desperately hoped they wouldn’t kill anyone. Deep down, he knew his dad had been humouring him before, but part of him still believed it might be possible.

Then there was a flash of light outside and a low rumble. All three children dashed to the window.

“Is it a storm?” Ezran asked.

“The elves?” Callum guessed.

“No,” Claudia said, “I think…” She trailed off and the bolted for the door.

“Wait! There are guards outside. We can’t-” Callum tried but Claudia ignored him. She flung open the door.

“Miss!” One guard burst out. “Hey! Hey, wait!” The guards chased after her, Ezran and Callum on their heels. One guard noticed and turned around.

“Hey! Get back in-” Ezran ducked under the guard’s arm, Bait hopping along alongside him.

Most of the guards were concentrated outside on the ramparts or around the perimeter so they didn’t encounter any other guards until they reached the courtyard.

The guards were on the floor, groaning; part of the inner wall had collapsed and was scattered over the courtyard. The guard behind Claudia slowed down as he saw the mess.

“What the…?” He was distracted enough to let Callum and Ezran pass him, the second guard shouting uselessly as he tried to catch up.

Claudia lead the three children over the bridge, which also had a few downed guards. Ezran realised the attack hadn’t been by people going in, but rather one person going out. The children ran into the forest, following the path of felled trees and churned up earth. Ezran’s stomach clenched at the damage. He’d known that Viren could do powerful magic, but to see the results like that was something else.

“Claudia!” Callum called, sounding as tired as Ez felt. “Slow down!”

But Claudia didn’t appear to hear. After another few minutes though, she shouted back. “We’re close!”

It was the that Ezran heard sounds from ahead and saw flashes of light. They pressed on until they burst into chaos. Immediately Ezran saw an elf lying on the ground just in front of him; they were grimacing and clutching their middle but Ezran couldn’t see any blood.

“Dad?” Callum cried and Ez looked up to see Viren locked in battle with two elves. Claudia ran over, hands outstretched as she began to chant.

“There!” Callum pointed and took Ez’s hand, leading him over to Harrow. Their dad was crouched over Soren, facing off with another elf – though this one had her hands up in surrender.

“Just pass it over and I’ll leave you be!” The elf was saying.

Ez then saw the egg’s satchel by his dad’s side. Harrow caught sight of him and Callum.

“Boys!” He rose a little and Soren shifted to sit up, also looking over. The elf eyed them warily but didn’t move any closer.

“Soren! Are you okay?” Callum asked. Soren did _not_ look okay: his face was covered in dark bruises and smeared blood, his eyes blinked sluggishly as he looked up.

“Yeah.” Soren coughed, giving a half-smile as Ezran’s brother knelt beside him, hands fluttering like he wasn’t sure how to help.

“Boys.” Harrow said again, placing a hand on each of his son’s shoulders. “I need you to look after each other, okay? Soren, get them out of here.” Both Callum and Ezran nodded solemnly. Callum helped Soren to his feet, hastily supporting him with his shoulder as Soren swayed.

“Your highness…” Soren tried, but Harrow didn’t seem to hear him, instead meeting the elf’s eyes.

“Let them leave and I’ll give you the egg.” Harrow said.

The elf nodded quickly. “Agreed.”

Harrow stood, stepping in front of the boys and holding out the satchel. The elf inched closer and reached out.

“No! Harrow, don’t!” Viren yelled. Ezran turned his head just in time to see the two elves Viren had been fighting on the ground, wrestling with Claudia’s chains. Viren lifted his staff. Everyone froze; Ezran felt the dragon still in its shell. It took a moment for Ez to feel something on his arm, and realised that it was Soren’s hand. He glanced at Soren, seeing a firm expression on his face. Soren was fully alert and inching Ezran and Callum behind him, even though he wasn’t standing completely upright, bending forward slightly.

“They’ll use it to destroy us!” Viren shouted. “Claudia! Take it!”

“Enough, Viren!” Harrow snapped, stepping forward and pushing the satchel into the elf’s arms. Viren’s eyes narrowed and he pulled out something from his pocket, beginning to chant.

“Clauds! Stop him!” Soren called, causing Claudia to dither. The elf with the egg turned to run just as Viren shot something at her. Gasping, she tried to turn to shelter the satchel but it was too late; the bolt of light hit it dead on.

“No!” One of the chained up elves cried. “Rayla! Is it…?” He asked.

The elf with the egg, Rayla, was on her knees, shaking. Harrow stalked over to Viren.

“How dare you? Put down your staff!” Catching sight of the boys, he shouted. “Soren, get the boys out of here!”

Soren looked at Claudia and jerked his head, she walked over, sparing a glance to Harrow and Viren arguing viciously. Rayla had uncovered the egg and Ez gasped, the light had almost faded and he couldn’t sense the dragon anymore.

“Oh no,” Rayla breathed. Claudia reached them and Soren began pulling Ez and Callum back into the tree line.

“Come on, we need to get back to the castle.”

“But the King!” Callum said.

“But the egg!” Ez said.

“Claudia, help me!” Soren cried, huffing with the effort of holding the boys from rushing forward. Claudia didn’t seem to hear him, instead crouching by Rayla.

“Is it dead?­” She asked in a small voice. Rayla looked up at her, expression pinched.

“I don’t know.”

Shouts from across the clearing loosened Soren’s grip enough to let Ez break free and run to the girls.

­“I can’t feel him anymore.” He explained as he touched the shell. Rayla tilted her head at him in confusion but didn’t have time to say anything as Soren and Callum reached them.

“I need to go to him!” Callum was saying, struggling against Soren’s hand on his elbow.

“You’ll get yourself killed.” Soren shot back before turning to the elf. “Give me one of your slishy slashies.”

Rayla blinked. “Excuse me?”

“A sword! I don’t have mine and I have to help the King so this one,” he nodded to Callum, “will go home.”

Rayla looked past him and Ez did too. He gasped. His dad was on the ground and Viren was fighting the two elves again. Rayla jumped up, drawing dual blades and after an infinitesimal hesitation, offered one to Soren. He took it.

“Claudia, get them back!” He told his sister and he ran to the King, ducking arrows and magic blasts. Rayla jumped into the fray.

“What can we do?” Callum asked nervously, though the way his eyes were darting between the egg and the fight, Ez wasn’t sure which he was talking about. For his part, Ez put a hand on Bait as his heart continued to sink.

“Maybe this is for the best.” Claudia said, shoulders slumped as she stared at the egg.

“No!” Ez cried. Bait croaked beside him. “He’s someone’s baby! We should have protected him!”

Claudia looked at him for a long moment, something dawning on her face. Whatever the emotion was, however, was interrupted by Viren’s cry. He was on one knee, the elf with a long bow looming over him. The other elf was slumped against a tree and Rayla was panting heavily, clutching her arm. Harrow was sitting up, Soren keeping an eye on the fight whilst holding a rag to the King’s head.

“Dad!” Claudia leapt up. As she approached though, Viren got out an orb thing and cast a spell that froze the elf and Rayla in one long hand of ice. Claudia yelped, her foot getting stuck by the tail end of the icy breath. Viren hardly seemed to notice, turning his eyes to the princes.

“Callum!” Soren yelled, coming out of nowhere and shoulder checking Viren. As the mage stumbled, Soren swiped the orb and threw it to Callum.

Despite looking like a deer in lamplights, Callum managed to run forward and catch it. Viren growled and hit Soren across the face with his staff. Soren crumpled to the ground and Ez gasped.

“What do I do?” Callum stammered.

“Smash it!” Rayla yelled, still trapped in the ice. After a quick glance around, Callum fell to his knees and grabbed a rock.

Viren let out a wordless yell as Callum smashed the rock against the orb.

The effect was instantaneous: dark clouds burst into being above their heads, swirling in a fierce wind. Lightening cracked, so close overhead that it was almost blinding. Ez scooped up Bait and crouched behind the egg to stop them all from being blown away. Struggling to open his eyes, Ez saw Callum fall back beside him and put a hand on the egg. By the flashes of lightening, Ez could just make out figures across the clearing but he couldn’t see where his dad and Soren were. All he could do was hold on tight.

“Are we sure this was a good idea?” Ez shouted over the wind. Bait wiggled in his arms, the clearing so dark Ez couldn’t even see what colour he was.

“Too late now!” Callum called back, voice squeaking as lightening seemed to come _out_ of the egg. The boys pulled back as the wind died. They were in the eye of the storm, Ez realised. The multi-coloured lightening continued to spark around the egg. Callum pulled Ez and Bait further back and they watched transfixed. Cracks appeared in the shell and Ez felt Bait shift under his hands, creeping forward for a better look.

Suddenly, the egg dropped and lay still on the ground. Ez’s stomach fell but then! The egg rattled and with great effort, the cutest thing Ez had ever seen broke free, rolling out onto the grass.

Ez stared in wonder: admiring the bright colour of the skin and great shaggy mane, not to mention the long, pink tongue. The baby dragon tilted his head this way and that, opening his mouth without making any sound.

Ez shook himself, instinctively knowing what was wrong. “Bait, lick his eyes open!”

Ignoring the toad’s protests, Ez nudged him over. The dragon yipped and cooed as Bait helped him open his eyes.

Heart bursting with joy, Ez hugged the dragon. Despite being a little pointy with his claws and wing bones, the dragonling was very warm. “Hello Azymondias! I think we’ll call you Zym for short.”

A large crack startled them. Rayla prised herself free of the ice weakened by the storm. She stepped between them and a slack jawed Viren. Callum put a hand on Ez’s shoulder, eyeing Viren warily.

“You’re all fools.” Viren muttered. He took a step forward but stopped and looked down. His foot had nudged Soren’s body. Viren lowered his staff slowly, expression complicated. Ezran’s stomach clenched. Soren was just unconscious…right?

“Now!” Harrow cried and guards Ezran hadn’t noticed rushed Viren from the trees. They managed to get his hands in manacles before he could get any spells off – not that he tried any.

“Wait!” Claudia plead with Harrow, but Harrow just looked back impassively.

“I’m sorry Claudia, but they need to take him for everyone’s safety.”

Her gaze lowered and she nodded. Harrow looked to a guard who was kneeling by Soren. “How is he?”

“His heart beat is strong, just knocked out cold.” The guard reported.

Claudia sobbed and ran over, putting one hand in Soren’s hair and covering her mouth with the other. 

Ez’s attention was caught by Rayla’s soft gasp. He looked down and saw a ribbon in Zym’s mouth.

The other conscious elf approached.

“Impossible.” He protested even as Zym pulled off Rayla’s other ribbon. Rayla looked up at the other elf and after a long moment, he put his bow on his back. He tuned to a wary-looking Harrow and several guards with crossbows at the ready.

“The young prince has spoken.” The elf announced. “There is no need for further bloodshed.”

Harrow signalled and the guards lowered their crossbows.

“Dad! Come and meet Zym!” Ez called.

Harrow let out a strange laugh but approached cautiously. Zym stumbled clumsily over and yapped, curling up as Harrow bent down to stroke him. Ez didn’t understand the look on his father’s face, nor the tears in his eyes but he was happy when his dad said.

“Hello Zym.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw the theory that Zym was able to cut through Rayla’s ribbon because the magic recognised that he was alive and therefore the revenge -and binding- was unnecessary, which I have accepted as head-cannon. But for this fic, I didn’t want Harrow to die or any arms falling off so, ‘you get your binding off!’ and ‘you get your binding off!’


	4. The Agreement

Negotiations of the exact details were awkward to say the least. The elves had incredibly reluctantly agreed to adjourn to the castle though Harrow had allowed that they keep their weapons. Despite their injuries, Runaan had insisted that Andromeda and Ram not leave his sight, so everyone had ended up in the throne room with two beds brought in for the elves to be treated whilst Harrow and Runaan negotiated. Callum made awkward conversation with the teenage elf getting her arm bandaged in one corner, Ezran happily playing with the baby dragon in another; and wasn’t that a sight Harrow never thought he’d see.

Harrow offered the elves an escort through Katolis, arguing that they would not be challenged if they travelled under his banner and with his guards. Runaan was suspicious of this, but recognised the advantages of such an arrangement and negotiated the numbers of human guards down to five. When Harrow pledged to allow Ram and Andromeda recover in the Infirmary, to be escorted back when they healed, Runaan nodded and ordered Rayla to stay with them. Runaan and Skor would take the dragon back in the meantime.

After hashing out some more details, the leader’s attentions were caught by the children. Callum was still talking to the elf girl, Rayla, waving his arms around and making her smile. Ezran was nattering on about something, the dragonling yipping along gamely. The two of them seemed so at ease with each other that it took Harrow’s breath away.

Runaan narrowed his eyes and said. “It is uncanny.” 

“What is?”

“Their connection.”

Ezran laughed and responded to one of the dragon’s noises. “That’s right!”

“How did your son know the prince’s name?” Runaan asked, almost to himself.

Harrow considered. “Ezran has always had a way with animals but I never thought-”

“Dragons are not _animals_.” Runaan sneered. “They are the most intelligent beings in the land. Far wiser and more knowledgeable than you humans will ever be.”

Bristling, but unwilling to get into a futile argument with a fragile ally, Harrow shrugged the insult off.

“Ezran.” He called and his son bounced over, the dragon following. “How did you know uh, his name?”

Both Ez and the dragon tilted their head in the exact same way. Harrow had to clear his throat as Ez considered for a moment.

“He told me.” He said finally. Harrow felt his eyebrows raise but he knew his son better to believe he would lie so brazenly.

“Good, thank you.” He said and Ez lead the dragon back to Callum and Rayla. 

“I can sense a link between them.” Runaan said, his gaze turned inward. Then he looked to Harrow.

“The prince made it clear that he chooses forgiveness over vengeance. I am not in a position to make an offers, but when the Dragon Queen learns of human’s efforts to help her son...” His gaze turned to the children. “Perhaps if your son is the one to return the prince, there might be room for negotiation.”

Would Harrow ever be comfortable letting his son out of his sight again? No, not comfortable, but his political mind did see the value in the gesture. If peace truly was possible, then they would have to risk vulnerability in order to engender trust.

He came to a decision.

“If you wait another day, I can send General Amaya to accompany you. I would trust no one else to guard my son, especially on such an important mission.”

Runaan twisted his lip briefly, but nodded. “I will send word to the Dragon Queen and she will meet us near the border, so your son will not have to go far. The same number of guards as we agreed on before.”

Harrow nodded and thanked the Sources for Opeli as she efficiently organised beds for everyone. If his hugs for his boys were longer than usual, no one mentioned it.

…

The next morning, Harrow met with the High Council. There were only two issues on the agenda: the arrangement of the dragon prince’s escort and Viren.

“Did you discover how he escaped?” Harrow asked the Crownguard present. He was the third-in-command, from what Harrow remembered of the command structure.

“It appears as though he was not searched thoroughly enough.” The guard reported, brow furrowed in an angry line. “He had some kind of explosive on him.”

Harrow hummed, brow creased as he considered that.

“He will just escape again.” Opeli pointed out, eyeing Harrow closely. “And there’s no telling what he’ll do when he gets out.”

Harrow rubbed his brow. “I know.”

Straightening and taking in a deep breath, he nodded. “Draft an execution order. I’ll need to talk to Soren and Claudia before I sign it.”

Opeli bowed her head.

“Do you wish to hire another Dark Mage?” Saleer asked.

That would depend on how negotiations with the Dragon Queen went, and Harrow’s own limits. “I’ll think about it.”

The council members bowed and left the room.

…

Rayla had slept badly but got up with the sun – not knowing humans’ schedules. She’d been asked the night before not to leave her room until she’d been invited by someone and she could hear guards outside. Two by the sounds of their breathing.

Well, no point standing listening at the door for hours. She was in a guest room but there were still interesting things to look at: strangely-shaped combs, a chest filled with cloth and so much stone everywhere. How did they keep the place warm in winter?

A few hours after sunrise, there was a knock on the door. It was Prince Callum, accompanied by yet more guards.

“Breakfast?” He asked. “I mean, uh, would you like to eat? Uh…”

Rayla couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness. She joined the two princes and what turned out not to be their mother but a priestess?

Opeli had a kind face which could become stern in a flash. It was clear she was fond of the princes even as she didn’t indulge them. The group was completed by a large toad creature that changed colours rapidly. Rayla wasn’t sure how humans had a magical creature that hadn’t become victim to Dark Magic but decided not to question it.

“Soren is still in the Infirmary.” Opeli explained when Rayla asked. “The healers want to observe him a little while longer, to be safe.”

“I don’t envy them trying to get Soren to sit still.” Callum had joked, making Ezran giggle. From what little she knew of him, Rayla gathered that she and Soren shared the trait of not being very good patients. She resolved to visit him as soon as she could, knowing how terribly bored she got when holed up in bed. 

The boys were nice enough; Ezran far more normal than Callum. She made stilted small talk with them until curiosity kicked in and they started asking each other about their different realms. It turned out that humans and elves had similar styles of games, though they all had different names.

The King, Runaan and Callisto joined them a little later, Callisto carrying Zym in under his arm. Ezran insisted Zym sit beside him and slipped the dragon pieces of bacon when he thought no one was looking.

There was some small talk among the adults but they also listened to the children resume their conversation.

Runaan occasionally stopped Rayla from answering a question about the Silver Grove, but otherwise the adults didn’t interfere.

When everyone was done, the King announced that Ezran and his Aunt Amaya would travel with Runaan, Callisto and Zym, as representatives of humanity. Ezran was very excited by this and hugged Zym, talking to him about all the fun they’d have on the road.

Prince Callum was visibly disappointed by his exclusion and there was some back and forth before the King’s tone changed and the prince ducked his head in surrender.

“Me and Bait will tell you all about it when I get back.” Ezran tried to placate him. Callum managed a thin smile.

After breakfast, the children all went to see Soren.

“Hey!” Soren greeted, looking cheerful. His face was still a riot of colour, but Rayla noticed that the bandage around his arm was fresh and he looked relaxed.

“Soren!” Ezran leapt onto the bed and Soren laughed, grabbing the prince’s arm to stop him from falling back off.

“Are you okay? Your face looks really bad, does it hurt?” Ezran asked in quick succession, hand halfway up to poke at the mentioned bruises.

“I’m fine! Practically good as new.”

Rayla didn’t need to hear Callum’s soft sigh to gather that was a lie.

“I’ve got a hard head, remember?” Soren went on. Ezran giggled and shimmied down to stand beside the bed.

“Glad to hear it.” Rayla offered, skin itching. She wasn’t sure how to act. Sure, they’d managed to have an uncomfortable but not terrible conversation when he was technically her prisoner but…what if he hated her? His immediate grin settled her nerves.

“I meant to say: your swords are so light. How do you cut anything with them?”

Rayla started at the subject change. She put a hand on her hip, lips curling up. “Not every blade has to be as heavy as a Shadowpaw to cut like one.”

He laughed and Rayla relaxed even more. Not having death hanging over them was doing wonders for the atmosphere.

“What’s a Shadowpaw?” Callum asked and they chatted for a while before the princes were called away. Ezran to pack for his journey, Callum to supervise.

Rayla went to check on Ram and Andromeda – chipper and sullen respectively – and noticed a guard enter and talk to Soren. It was the guard from yesterday, the one who’d kissed Soren before leaving to take the message back to the King. He looked fully healed and very concerned for Soren. Rayla looked at Soren and noticed that he was blushing. She was too far away to hear what they were saying but whatever it was made Soren push his hair back and chuckle awkwardly. The guard only stayed for a few minutes, though he gave another lingering look at the door before leaving. 

“What’s their deal?” Ram asked.

“Who cares?” Andromeda muttered but the others ignored her.

Rayla shrugged. “You too rest some more, alright?”

Ram smiled gently and Andromeda lay back silently, grimacing.

Rayla returned to Soren’s side. “So…I meant to ask. You and that guard…Marcos?”

Soren froze. “Yeah?”

“Are you married?”

She took his choked laughter to mean ‘no’.

“Why would you think that?”

She folded her arms. “Well it’s not like you have horns. How was I meant to know?”

That sparked a conversation about wedding rings and where elves and humans wore them.

“But if they’re on your finger, doesn’t that change your grip on your sword?”

Soren leant back and shrugged. “The old Captain of the Crownguard had his ring on a chain he wore under his armour. That is kind of handy, having horns. Can you keep other stuff on them?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He thought a moment. “Bed rolls?”

Rayla took a moment to try to figure out if that was a joke or not.

“What? That could be a thing.” He defended.

“It’s not. Humans are weird.”

“ _You_ just asked me if I was married to a one of the Crownguard, who _I_ lead. About that, we’re uh, we’re not telling anyone.”

“I get it. Absolute discretion.” She tapped her nose.

He frowned. “No, I’m asking that you don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh…yeah, I promise. But you guys are…” She raised her eyebrow suggestively.

He blushed. “Yes.”

Rayla had kissed a boy she’d had a crush on but hadn’t felt strongly enough for anyone to do more than that. Plus, Runaan was a strong deterrent; no one dared incite his wrath. She briefly wondered if humans did it differently to how Ethari explained elf ‘intimate relations’. No way she was asking though.

Callisto came in to see Ram and Andromeda, telling Rayla that Runaan wanted to talk to her before they left. She promised Soren she’d visit again the next day if he didn’t get out before then. Soren’s bright smile stayed with her as she left.

…

Soren couldn’t help but think about Rayla for the rest of the morning. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met but also shared a lot of qualities with the Crownguard: tough, compassionate, creative in a fight and interesting. Of all his expectations about elves, for some reason he’d never considered how interesting they’d be.

Rayla was fascinating – not just her foreign look or clothes – how she talked, her thoughts and reactions to things. He was really glad neither of them had died the day before.

Though he did keep getting flashes of the elf he’d killed. The vengeful elf, Andromeda, glared at him whenever he glanced in her direction. His stomach clenched every time. Still, he couldn’t see a reason to apologise – the elves had killed three of the Crownguard. Dana had been found alive, thank the Sources, apparently she’d been knocked out by Rayla and had been missed by the other elves. She’d been checked over the day before and ordered a week’s bedrest in the barracks. The others though…

It didn’t seem real, that they were gone. He still remembered seeing Shaun set the record for fastest crossbow reloading; Taylor teaching Dana who to wrap field dressings and Michael’s long-suffering sighs. Soren still hadn’t found a joke that Michael had found funny.

Now he never would. 

Soren was not looking forward to seeing their families at the wakes. Just thinking about how he’d failed them made him feel sick. How was he supposed to face weeping mothers and fathers without breaking down himself? Without begging them to forgive his failures?

When he’d come by before, Marcos had updated him on the mood among the soldiers: sad and angry mostly, not just by the deaths but also the treatment of Soren and Marcos. Strangely, that had given him a little comfort. At least they cared. Soren had asked him to remind everyone that the elves had agreed to work with them and no one should even consider acting against the king’s wishes. 

The Infirmary door opened and King Harrow entered.

“Soren.” The King smiled gently.

“Your Highness.” Soren bowed as much as he could whilst reclined on the bed.

“How are you?” Harrow took the seat and gave Soren that focused look, like he was really listening to you. As a kid, Soren had felt light for hours after receiving that attention. The older he’d gotten, however, the more jealous of the princes he’d become. Why did they get the dad with that look when Soren had the distracted dad who barely even pat him on the head?

“I’m feeling a lot better, sir.” Soren told himself to focus. This wasn’t Harrow, his dad’s friend, this was his King, who he’d failed to protect.

“I’m glad to hear that. I also want to thank you. There is no way I can express how grateful I am for what you were prepared to do for Ezran.”

Soren swallowed and couldn’t meet the King’s gaze. “It’s in my oath, protecting the royal family.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t courageous.”

Soren wasn’t sure what to say to that, so stayed silent.

“I’ve decided to admit you into the Order of the Dragon Tail.”

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to-”

“It’s already been approved by the Council. Too late to stop it.” The King interrupted, smiling. “We’ll have the ceremony a few weeks from now, when things have settled down.”

Soren looked down at his hands. “But I failed. Michael and the others…”

Harrow’s expression softened. “I know as a commander you feel every death of those you lead. I always feel responsible for any life lost in Katolis. But not everything is in our control, sometimes the best you can do still isn’t perfect and all you can do is learn for next time.”

It was rare to hear the King talk about ruling. Soren had assumed he was always self-assured*.

“And it doesn’t mean you fail to recognise the lives saved.” Harrow continued. “Your quick thinking likely saved Marcos’ life, it gave us the time to find the egg and negotiate. Without your intention to sacrifice yourself, who knows how many more might have died not just last night, but in future battles?”

Huh, Soren hadn’t thought of the wider implications. Things could have gone a lot worse. He forced a smile.

“I suppose your Highness is right.”

Harrow smiled back. “I’m glad you think so.” Then his mouth fell into a flat line and his brows drew together. “I also have some bad news.”

Ice flooded Soren’s body. He’d slept poorly, plagued by something other than his guilt.

“About Dad.”

“Yes.”

Soren had only been a Crownguard for a year but he lived in the capital and was also the son of the King’s closest advisor: he was no stranger to the King’s Justice. Many years ago, there had been some trouble between two Lords in Southern Katolis. Soren had been about twelve, he still remembered the scene in the throne room.

He’d received permission to attend as long as he remained as still and silent as a statue. Normally that would have been an excruciatingly boring task, but Soren was training to be a Crownguard, of course he could take on guard duty.

So Soren had been standing upright, chin lifted, hand resting on the pummel of his training sword, when the summoned lords had entered to have their squabble resolved once and for all. Soren hadn’t paid attention to the details, just noticing that relations soured quickly – worsened by one of the Lord’s sons launching an insult at the rival Lord.

A scuffle had broken out, efficiently subdued by the Crownguard and the King’s call to order. Except one of the Lord’s men had been either too slow to hear or beyond caring; he’d stabbed a rival through the heart.

It had been the first time Soren had seen someone die. He could still see the dribble of red and stunned expression; still hear the squelch as the dagger had gone in, the horrible quiet before everyone had snapped back into action.

For his transgression – not only murder but disobeying a direct order from the King – the man had been sentenced to death. The next day had been the first - and only – public execution Soren had seen. Those were only reserved for treason and so happened very rarely. Soren hadn’t wanted to go, but his father had made him.

“It’s important that everyone knows the price of betrayal.” He’d said in that wise, all-knowing voice he had.

That phrase had been repeating in Soren’s head throughout the night.

“He committed treason.” Soren said to the King.

Harrow nodded gravely.

Soren swallowed. “He had good reasons. He thinks the elves are evil, that they’d use the egg to hurt us.”

“I know, but it doesn’t matter.”

Soren knew that, still his heart tore a little. “He thought he was doing the right thing. If you give him another chance, he’ll see that the elves aren’t bad. He’s smart and he knows more spells than anyone; he can still be useful.”

“Soren, do you really think your father will admit his mistake and embrace Xadia?”

Soren’s eyes began to burn. “I know what he did. I know what he’s like, okay? I _know_. But he’s…he’s my Dad.”

Harrow sighed and leaned back in the chair. “And my friend.”

Sore sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. After a silent minute, he looked at the King and realised. “You don’t want to do it.”

“I never _want_ to.” Harrow replied. “But I cannot allow threats to the Kingdom to go unanswered.”

“How is this happening? Dad wasn’t a threat to the Kingdom two days ago.” Soren mused out loud. Harrow didn’t agree or disagree, instead humming noncommittedly.

“What’s it called when you suddenly go crazy?” Soren asked.

Harrow blinked.

“You know, when you’re too stressed.” Soren clarified.

“Having a mental breakdown.” Harrow answered.

“Yeah that, maybe all those years of protecting humanity got too much and… and he went a little crazy but he can get better again. If you give him a chance to make nice with the elves and promise to never hurt another dragon.”

Harrow rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Even if that were possible, I’d never be able to have him back as an advisor. Our new allies would never accept that.”

“He doesn’t have to be Arch Mage, or even a mage here. He could just be our dad, somewhere else.”

“I shouldn’t show mercy to someone who defied me three times, who might threaten this fragile peace just by being alive.”

Soren’s throat closed up. He’d never been good with words, always slow and clumsy when trying to express his ideas, but this was important. This was his family. Gritting his teeth, he threw back the covers and slipped out of the bed, onto his knees. He gasped from the flare of pain in his ankle and sore muscles, but pushed on. 

“Your Highness, please, don’t give me the Dragon Tail. I humbly request that my reward for my actions last night be a pardon for my father’s crimes. I will serve you and your family with absolute loyalty for the rest of my days.”

Harrow cleared his throat. “Soren.” He put a hand on Soren’s shoulder and Soren dared look up. The King didn’t seem angry. “I hear your request, now please get back into bed before the healers kick me out.”

Feeling wobbly, Soren did so.

“Captain Soren, in answer to your request, I say this: if your father apologises to Queen Zubeia and the Moonshadow Elves for his actions, renounces Dark Magic and pursuit of Xadians and goes into exile, his life will be spared. If he fails to uphold any of these conditions, his life will be forfeit.”

“Thank you.” Soren whispered, body beginning to feel weightless.

The King smiled sadly. “You are a good man, Soren. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different.”

…

Claudia took a deep breath in, mentally reciting her calming mantra a few times. Nerves settled a little, she straightened her shoulders and turned the corner. The guards in front of the Infirmary didn’t react when they saw her and let her walk in unquestioned.

According to her calculations, there were twenty minutes before shift change. She patted her pocket reflexively and forced herself not to fixate on everything that could go wrong.

_Get to Soren. He’ll help._

Luckily no one else was with her brother. Claudia knew that the girl elf had been to seen him – having overheard Callum talk with Opeli earlier, discussing their ‘guests’. It made Claudia’s stomach bubble to think of those monsters being made comfortable in her home. The evil elves who’d tried to kill the king, who’d tortured her brother! Who’d turned everyone against her father.

She’d seen him in the early morning and he’d explained everything: he’d had a plan to save the King and Soren without giving the elves the egg. Except the King’s pride had meant no one had listened. He’d broken out of prison to save everyone but again, the king had taken the elves’ side; somehow they’d enchanted him or taken advantage of his egotistical idea about sacrificing himself.

Viren had been forced to fight.

Claudia had felt relieved but also enraged. How _dare_ anyone call her father a bad person? He was the only one seeing the big picture. The only one working to protect humanity.

He’d also warned her that the king might decide to silence Viren permanently. The thought filled her with terror and she knew she could not fail her assigned tasks. She had to do everything she could to keep her family together.

Apart from Soren, only the two injured elves and one healer were in the Infirmary. They were a good distance away, and after seeing her, pointedly turned away. As long as she and Soren were quiet, they shouldn’t be overheard.

Soren looked better than he had in the woods, although the bruises on his face were darker, he was fully alert and managed a small smile when he saw her.

“Clauds.­­”

Her lips twitched in return. “Sor-bear. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” His smile fell away though. “Have you seen the king?”

She felt her brow furrow. “No.” She took a furtive glance down the room before going on. “His Idiot-ness, I have managed to avoid.”

“Oh.” Soren looked down at where his fingers were twisting in the sheet. “He has something really important to tell you.”

Claudia’s stomach plummeted. “About dad?”

Soren met her eyes, nodding slowly.

“No.” Her strength left her for a moment and she collapsed into the visitor’s chair.

“You should let him tell you.” Soren said, sounding exhausted.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Claudia glanced around again and leant in. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving.”

Soren blinked. “What?”

“I can’t tell you the details, you don’t need to know anyway. Can you walk?” 

“Uh, yes I can. Claudia, what are you talking about?”

­“In about fifteen minutes the guards change shifts.” She showed him the whistle in her pocket. “I’ll blow this and call a load of birds through the open window in the hall. When the guards are distracted…”

“Claudia, why…?”

“I’m getting you out of here. Keep up!” Claudia snapped, brow starting to sweat a little.

“But why would we have to sneak?”

“You really think the King will let everything go back to normal once dad’s… We’re not safe here. We have to leave with dad.”

“No.­” The conviction in Soren’s reply took Claudia aback. “I don’t want Dad to die but he attacked the king. He tried to kill a baby-”

“A powerful, someday doom-dragon!” Claudia hissed.

“Claudia.­” Soren insisted. “If he did all that, what else could he do? We’re trying to make peace with Xadia, but we can’t do that if-”

“They got to you too.” Claudia sat back, unable to feel her body. Her ears rang slightly and she hat to push down the panic congealing at the base of her throat.

“Claudia.” Soren began urgently. “Everything we thought we knew about elves is wrong. I’ve been talking to Rayla-”

“One of the monsters who _hurt_ you.” 

“No. She helped me and she saved Marcos’ life twice. They’re just like us.”

“Don’t!” Claudia’s eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t do this.”

“The king said he’d pardon Dad if he gives up Dark Magic. If Dad could just talk to the elves, he’d see-”

Claudia stood abruptly, the scraping of the chair ringing loud between them. “How can you take the enemy’s side-”

“They don’t have to be the enemy-”

“-over your own family!” Claudia near-screamed.

Soren’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes shone.

A healer appeared at Claudia’s elbow. “Young lady! This is a place of healing. Keep your voice down.”

Claudia levelled a scornful glare at the healer who just stared right back. Face flushing, Claudia crossed her arms and sat back down mutely. Soren’s cheeks were also a little red, his shoulders hunched. The healer finally turned around and went back down the other end of the room.

Claudia saw the female elf’s constipated looking face and beady eyes on her. Bile rising in her throat, hands shaking, Claudia turned to Soren.

“Please Soren.­ Please don’t make me choose.”

Soren grabbed her hand. “Don’t go with him, Claudia. He’s dangerous. Please, I have to keep you safe.”

“Dad will do that. He won’t let anyone hurt me.” She withdrew her hand and reached into her pocket. “I’ll come back for you.”

“Clauds…”

Quick as a snake, she sprinkled his face with dust from a pouch in her pocket. He passed out immediately. Sniffing, Claudia wiped her hand clean on her dress and leant forward, pressing a kiss to her brother’s forehead.

“One day, we’ll be together again.­”

Then she left.

…

Viren had spent many long nights sequestered in the dingy rooms of his secret lair; so much so that he’d grown accustomed to the less than pleasant odours. For some reason, the stench in the palace prison was different and intolerable. Glad his hands were chained in front of him, he covered his nose and mouth with his robe. And he stewed.

When had Harrow taken leave of his senses? Soft-hearted, he’d always been that yes, but never to the point where he’d jeopardise the safety of his kingdom, the safety of all humanity. Colluding with elves, delivering back a powerful weapon, it was unthinkable.

Well, the enemy had certainly found his weak spot. Prince Ezran. The mere mention of a threat to the princeling and Harrow had folded instantly. Pathetic.

Viren loved his children but if it came down to it… Soren had had the right idea, for once.

Viren leant his head back against the stone wall, insides squirming as he remembered seeing the still body of his son at his feet. For a wild moment, he’d believed Soren to be dead. It had been as if time had frozen. He’d heard his children’s laughter as they’d played together many, many years ago. Back before Lissa had left, back when they’d been more of a family. Regret had welled inside and he’d only just caught a glimpse of Soren breathing before the guards had restrained him.

In the cell, trying not to breathe through his nose, Viren tried to remember the last time he, Soren and Claudia had spent time together not on official crown business. For Claudia’s last birthday, they’d gone to the market in Knaveton…

Viren frowned. Or had it been the birthday before last? He shook his head and cleared his throat. What did it matter? His work was too important. The best thing he could do for his family was to keep them safe. His children understood that; they knew sacrifices sometimes had to be made. They wouldn’t be his children if they didn’t.

Footsteps and clanging interrupted his thoughts: a visitor? Viren sat up and flattened his hair. Harrow emerged from the shadows.

“Viren.”

“Your Highness.” Viren enjoyed Harrow’s flinch at the sarcastic edge.

Harrow got straight to it. “You betrayed me: three times.”

“I counted two.”

“Don’t. Push me.”

Viren showed his palms and remained silent.

“It is my right and duty to protect my people from traitors and those who seek power for their own ends.”

Viren barely contained a scoff at that. He heard doubt in the king’s voice…maybe there was a chance…

“Especially with regards to this new delicate truce with Xadia. I should execute you.”

 _Should_ …interesting. Viren studied Harrow’s face, anticipating.

“However, in light of your decades of service as well as the plea from Captain Soren, I am prepared to extend a conditional pardon.”

There it was. Viren painted surprise on his face even as he inwardly rolled his eyes. How weak and ineffectual. No ally would be convinced by such half-hearted measures and no peace would last very long. Harrow was being stupidly, dangerously sentimental and if Viren had still been his advisor, he’d have said so. As it was, he listened to the conditions and the spiel about forgiveness and vulnerability.

In a way, it was very flattering that Harrow felt so strongly about their friendship. Once upon a time, Viren might have felt the same, now his heart only held disgust and a muted pity. Harrow would be the King who doomed Katolis.

“You have until dawn to consider it.” Harrow finished.

Bored, Viren just nodded and bowed. “Your Highness.”

Harrow stared at him for a long moment, before about turning and leaving.

 _An end of an era_ , Viren thought to himself as he sat back down on the bunk, _and the beginning of a new one_.

…

Sometime that night, both Claudia and Viren disappeared.

Callum related what they knew to Soren and Rayla in the Infirmary the next morning. His hushed voice and occasional head-scratch as he struggled to remember the details making it even harder for Soren to follow everything. His head ached from whatever Claudia had thrown onto it, but he didn’t tell anyone she’d been to see him. He knew his sister was just doing what she thought was right, he didn’t want to get her into any more trouble.

What he did manage to gather was that Claudia had helped their dad to escape and the King knew it. He was glad she hadn’t told him anything about the plan so he wouldn’t have to lie if someone asked him. Neither Rayla nor Callum had suggested that Soren had been involved, but they were being careful in their glances at him. 

“So what happens now?” Rayla asked.

“There’s a search party.” Callum answered, eyes sliding to Soren’s face. “They’ve been told not to hurt Claudia but your dad...”

Soren’s gut twisted. He’d known intellectually that his plea to the King might not work but still he’d hoped.

“I figured.” He said to fill the silence between them.

Callum cleared his throat. “Dad wrote a formal apology to the Queen of the Dragons. We’re hoping that Ez’s bond with Zym will become a symbol of peace. Aunt Amaya received word from the Sunfire Elves. They want to hold negotiations when the Dragon Queen and Ez reach the border.”

“That’s encouraging.” Rayla commented, though her attention was mostly on Soren’s downward gaze. She exchanged a concern glance with Callum and he shrugged minutely, his lips scrunched up.

A healer came by to check Soren over for a final time. She gave him the all clear, instructing him to rest his ankle.

“No workouts. I mean it! Gentle walks only.”

Soren smiled weakly as he stood up.

“Gentle walks, my favourite exercise!” Callum enthused.

“Maybe we could all go together?” Rayla suggested. Soren looked her, then at Callum; blinking as if just realising they were there.

“Yeah. Why not?”

Rayla interlaced one arm with Soren’s and the other with Callum’s. “So, who knows the best spot in this stone monstrosity?”

The boys began to argue as they left the Infirmary and Rayla’s heart swelled. 

…

A week later, Ram and Andromeda had healed enough to begin the journey home. Without Runaan as mediator, Rayla was glad the King only made a brief visit to the Infirmary just before they departed; she and Ram grinned a little too widely to make up for Andromeda’s scowl.

Rayla was glad, however, to be able to say a longer goodbye to Soren and Callum in the courtyard. The prince shuffled awkwardly so Rayla indulged in a quick hug.

“Stay weird.” She told him. Despite his lack of confidence at times, Rayla really did like him and would have liked to have spent more time with him. It wasn’t like she was drowning in friends back home, at least, those who could talk.

Callum chuckled awkwardly and told her the same.

Soren was back on light duties, so he was fitted in his armour again. The shoulder plates really made a difference both to his dimensions and his attitude: he stood taller and his gaze didn’t dip to the ground. His face was also a little more healed, so it didn’t look like it hurt when he spoke. 

“Thank you for everything you did.” He said to her, giving her a very uncomfortable metal hug.

She still beamed though. As she pulled away, she said. “Well I couldn’t let you do all the good deeds.”

His brow pinched but he didn’t argue, instead looking over her shoulder and sharing a nod with Ram. Rayla wanted to say something else but she was very aware of the high number of unwanted ears around.

“We’ll meet again.” She settled on. Her confidence wasn’t feigned; somehow, she knew in her heart it was true.

This time, he did smile.

Rayla helped Ram with his bag and the three set off with three soldiers as escort. She turned halfway along the bridge and waved at the two figures watching her go. As they waved back her soul sang.

_This wasn’t goodbye, but the start of something new._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I don't have any plans to continue this I see the gang getting back together for one reason or another and Claudia and Viren are still players.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.  
> :D


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